Liam and his grandmother sat, hands tense upon their laps. It was the Day of Animavore—the devourer of souls—and this year, it was their turn.
The golden letter had arrived only yesterday.
My mother cried as she squeezed me too tightly, like she might break my back. But Grandma was there, as usual, setting things right. She spoke her Polish words, the ones she always cooed.
I think she said, "Take care my child. God is with us."
We waited outside our door as the golden cruiser slid to a stop, the driver beckoning us inside. It was already full, except for the last seat. No one seemed frightened.
I gripped Grandma’s hand. She squeezed back, humming her soft calming tune, whispering oo-koh-WEE-sahch.
It made me smile despite being terrified.
Above us, several Animavore swam through the sky like giant angle fish, silent and menacing—baskets filled with the chosen ones. My heart fluttered.
Grandma's strong, I can be too.
The lady beside her suddenly jumped up, aiming her camera at another Animavore hovering twenty feet away, its cage lowered.
She shouted. "Here, I'm here." As if she wanted it to take her.
I huddled closer to Grandma.
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Mary has expanded on her story with a much longer version here:
https://maryzuelke.com/f/soul-eaters-author-of-ya-dark-fantasy
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